Deadly Designs
by Linwe Elendil
Summary: Tag at the end of The Pine Bluff Variant. Mulder and Scully muse about the case. Is everything as nicely wrapped up as they think? Oneshot with lots of angst.


Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The X Files. I'm just doing this for fun. And since it practically wrote itself, I couldn't resist!

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When Scully made her way into the basement office, she found Mulder brooding at his desk. He looked more or less like he was back to normal, in his neatly pressed suit and tie. But something about his face set off warning bells in her head, and she sat carefully.

"What's that?" she asked, gesturing to the file in front of him. It was closed, but he continued to stare at it like it was a snake ready to attack.

"This is documentation of our latest exploits. The case is officially labeled as 'solved', but I requested a copy for my own records." His eyes never left the folder. She knew he wasn't happy with the outcome, though it had been more or less successful.

"Mulder, I think you're losing sight of the fact that we prevented a terrorist attack. I mean, who knows how many lives were saved when that money was removed?"

"Right."

"Did you hear me, Mulder? Hundreds – maybe thousands of innocent people – spared? I would call that a pretty good week."

Wordlessly tossing the file into her lap, Mulder rested his elbows on the desk and waited. "What?" she asked. His eyebrows raised – the only response she would get. Flipping open the folder, she scanned a letter. Incredulity spread across her face, her mouth opening in shock. "Mulder – " she said, glancing up at him, then back down at the paper, "They _lost_ it?"

"Funny how all that currency just _disappeared_ on its way to be locked into evidence." He didn't move. She sighed, closing the file in disgust, and tossing it on the desk. She glanced down at her hands.

"Look, Mulder – "

"It's Leamus, Scully. He took it. We both know he was in on it, and not only is he going to cover the whole thing up, but he'll just leak the money somewhere else! They're not done testing. They'll find another venue. Probably a different country – somewhere secluded. It would be worse than looking for a needle in a haystack. And how many people will die then?" He stood, grabbing the file, and hurling it unceremoniously into one of the plethora of drawers, slamming it shut again. She could tell he'd wanted to take a match to the report, and she admired his self-restraint as he collapsed back into his chair, covering his face with his hands. Scully cringed at the sight of his broken finger.

"Don't you ever get tired of all the bull, Scully?" he said, wearily, "Of being one step behind everyone?" She chose her words carefully. He'd been through a lot in the last few days, and she knew how much he'd come to value her opinion.

"Yeah, Mulder, I do. But part of me can't help thinking – we've got them running scared." She leaned forward, pulling his hands away from his face. "We're not one step behind. _They're __**only**__**one**__ step ahead._ Sooner or later… you're going to catch them." He looked at her intently, shaking his head.

"No, Scully…" he paused, and she started to wonder if he was giving up. "_We're_ going to catch them." She gave him a small smile at the correction. He returned it with one of his own before standing again. "I've just gotten word that the Flukeman may have left behind a girlfriend – a sanitation worker just disappeared in Utah. I'm gonna go get some coffee before reviewing the details. Want a cup?"

She groaned. "The Flukeman? Mulder, you're kidding, right?" His face remained impassive. "Mulder?" she said, fixing him with a serious stare, "You _are_ kidding…" She tilted her head. "Aren't you?" His mask of sincerity cracked with a grin.

"I'm only kidding about the Flukeman. The offer for coffee was real." Scully sighed in relief.

"The coffee I'll take. As long as you keep all past and future Flukemen to yourself."

"Will do," he answered, stepping out the door. Scully reached for her briefcase – for the ever-present mound of paperwork – thinking about their conversation.

"_Don't you ever get tired of all the bull, Scully? Of being one step behind everyone?" _

She was beginning to worry about him. He'd been questioning everything he'd come to believe, and after hearing so many versions of the night his sister went missing, who could blame him? But she knew he'd never forgive himself if he stopped searching now. So she encouraged him on days like this – pushing him further down the path to the truth.

She just couldn't shake the feeling that one day, she might wind up pushing him off a cliff…

**xXx**

**National Bank of Dubai**

**Baniyas Road Branch**

**10:02 p.m.**

Tom rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and stretched. _Long day in paradise_, he thought. _Too bad I spend most of my time sitting in this cage._ He looked around the barren walls of the room as he piled more dirham notes – the local currency – into the counting machine. _Good thing I don't have to count this myself. I'd be bored out of my skull._ This wasn't exactly what he'd moved from the states for. _I was a manager at Bank of America, for crying out loud. And I move to Dubai for THIS?!_ Still, it was a living. And a fairly good one at that. His wife stopped complaining about the good ol' US of A the second they'd stepped from the plane. But Tom didn't really care one way or the other – though he wished more of the people in this place spoke English.

A soft beeping alerted him to visitors, and he stood, arching his back – cringing when he felt it pop several times – before making his way out to the security desk. "Another delivery, Mike?" He asked the guard, glancing at the TV screens.

"Looks like," the man replied. He tried to stand, but plopped back into his seat, wincing and rubbing his knees. "Damn, that hurts!"

"Are you ever going to get that taken care of?" Tom asked in sympathy.

"That's the thing," Mike said with a sarcastic grin, "I moved over here for the great benefits I'd get with this job. Only trouble is? I can't get time off for the surgery!"

"It's always something," Tom said with a laugh. He nodded to the receiving door. "You stay where you are. I'll get this."

"Thanks," Mike replied.

The delivery turned out to be a million American dollars, grouped in hundreds and wrapped in plastic. Tom sighed.

"Ain't that a sight for sore eyes. Looks like you've got your work cut out for you," Mike said, grinning. Tom nodded in dread and glanced down at his watch.

"You know, it's pretty late." He looked slyly at the guard. "I don't expect the money'll go anywhere by tomorrow."

"Certainly what I'd say if I were in your place, Tom. Why don't you go on home – get some rest."

He nodded. "I'm so beat that, knowing me, I'd still find a way to screw up a simple job." Retrieving his jacket and briefcase, Tom fished his car keys out of his pocket and headed for the door. "See you tomorrow, Mike."

"Yeah, see ya," he replied. When he was all alone, he began flipping channels on the TV – determined to stay awake tonight. Glancing around, he noticed the partially open door to the room where Tom worked. The light was still on. "Dammit." Mike struggled to his feet and cracked the door open farther, groping for the light switch as he stared at the massive pile of money.

Images of everyone hauling notes from their wallets popped up in his head. Nobody used dollars over here, but the transplants would still be interested. It probably wouldn't take that long to clear it out of here. _This ain't going anywhere just yet_, he thought.

_But it sure will._

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Cue the creepy music!!! I know there are some details about the end that may not really fit, but come on – work with me here! ;-)

Hope you enjoyed. I haven't written for XF in a while! But I've been slowly collecting the seasons, and I just couldn't help myself. :-)


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